


a sublime idleness

by windingwoods



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/F, vague spoilers for silque's character ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: The wrinkles of Faye’s frown dig into the curve of her nose as she makes some awkward gesture with her right arm that seems to be aimed at Silque, right before dropping it back by her side. It could’ve been an attempt at shoving her, a playful gesture ingrained inside of her from a childhood surrounded by rowdy boys back in Ram.





	a sublime idleness

**Author's Note:**

> new fe game new femslash, i'm back at it again etc  
> for those who dont know or are simply too lazy to google it, kelpies are water spirits said to appear in the form of a horse to trick people into riding them and then dragging them into the water. i think theyre pretty neat

Silque considers herself a well-traveled person; not necessarily experienced or worn thin and soft like old leather, but her years of pilgrimage have made her acquainted with a good deal of worldly matters. Still, seeing Faye tear through the blue of the sky on her pegasus manages to make her feel somewhat breathless with thoughts she would only ever whisper on her knees in front of a statue of the Mother― or in front of Faye, were she bold enough.

She approaches her one day after Faye’s come back from recon duty, waits patiently until Faye’s done freeing her mount from all the heavy battle gear and offers her a handkerchief to wipe at the sweat trickling down her brow once she’s done. Faye accepts it with a tepid but grateful smile, a huge improvement from Silque’s first stilted attempts at making friends with her.

“So,” Silque starts, unsure about how to best breech the topic of how very dashing she finds both Faye and her pegasus in a way that isn’t sure to result in Faye looking at her funny, “any news to report?”

Faye shakes her head, twin braids swaying with the motion. “Haven’t seen a single Rigelian soul around for a few miles.” The words roll off her tongue in rough, quick sounds, her accent so different from the sea-like drawl of Novis and all its quirks taken from the people that sail the waters around the island, yet softer than what Silque remembers from her years in Rigel. It’s a clipped language that one.

“Did you need something?” Faye is asking now, and even if the question itself might be dismissive she’s still smiling at Silque, open and willing. Silque smiles back in kind.

“Ah, not really, no. I was just admiring you and your pegasus.” She figures earnestness is probably the best way to go at it. “May I ask for her name?”

That seems to make Faye giggle for some reason, a fait shine in her eyes as she says, “geez, that makes you sound like you’re hitting on her!”

Then the laughter is gone just as quickly as it came, something darker and deeper twisting Faye’s expression like it’s eating at her, but it lasts too little for Silque to reach out and put her finger on it. She wonders if it’s a selfish desire, wanting to be able to read this girl in front of her like she reads the hymns for her Mother.

“The name’s Kelpie by the way.”

Silque blinks, bites back a _I beg your pardon?_ as she comes back from her musing and processes what Faye’s just told her. “You named her after a… demon?”

The wrinkles of Faye’s frown dig into the curve of her nose as she makes some awkward gesture with her right arm that seems to be aimed at Silque, right before dropping it back by her side. It could’ve been an attempt at shoving her, a playful gesture ingrained inside of her from a childhood surrounded by rowdy boys back in Ram. “I’ll have you know kelpies are not _demons_ , I’d rather― call them spirits, I think. And they warn folks of incoming storms too.”

Silque lets herself soften in front of Faye’s passion; she takes a step closer to Kelpie and raises a hand, the ghost feeling from the previous battle still tingling on her fingertips like pinpricks. Kelpie’s muzzle is warm and velvety against her palm, humid air tickling her skin as the pegasus smells her and huffs.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, catches Faye relaxing from the corner of her eye.

“You know, my mom used to tell me lots of tales about kelpies. And fairies and all sorts of spirits, actually.”

It takes the restraint from her years under Duma to stop her from wincing ever so slightly at that, the way Faye says _mom,_ so unattainable for her, so different from Silque’s own _Mother_ and so much warmer than the immovable stone she’s offered herself to day after day. In her mind Faye’s mother (how strange it is not to capitalize, not to glorify it) is tall and warm and indistinct, blurry at the edges like she’s got the sun at her back and Silque’s squinting a bit too hard to see, tufts of hair curling upwards like Faye’s own. Her voice is a soft rumble as she tells her daughter bedtime stories, her feet make no sound on the wooden pavement as she sneaks into Faye’s bedroom at night to replace the tooth under the pillow with a shiny coin.

“And I mean, with all the unthinkable things out there it’s not that foolish to believe tales like those,” Fay continues, a little sheepish. “We fight monsters and know the faces of our gods after all, it’s not much of a stretch.”

It’s Silque’s turn to laugh now, gently so that Faye knows that she’s not taking her for a fool, but it’s just― the sheer optimism of it, the obstinacy of using the undead and two warring gods to blow life into a little girl’s own set of otherworldly creatures shared with the rest of her people like a common tongue. Silque’s sure the Mother wouldn’t mind being used as soil for such a thing.

“I suppose you’re right,” she says, and Faye _beams._ It makes Silque’s heart stutter, which might be the reason why the next moment she asks, “I made some candied orange peels with the leftovers from our offerings, would you like to have some together?”

“Sure thing!” Faye answers, maybe a bit too hurriedly but it’s hard to judge when Silque’s wishful thinking won’t stop going back to the idea of meeting Faye’s family, of lying down in the green, green grass by the fruit trees and the vineyards hand in hand with Faye, of waiting for fall together so that they can dance on the grapes with their bare feet and make the wine the Mother has bestowed upon Ram and its people.

She figures she can settle for a not-so-official date for the moment as Faye precedes her towards the woods where the Deliverance is camping out with light steps and her head turned partly to Silque to make sure that she’s following, warmth and something akin to thrill as she reaches out to tug at the hem of Silque’s garb. She’s always been patient after all.  


End file.
